The Paperwork Mysteries
by BO0kW0rM
Summary: Ever wonder how in the world Zaraki got his paperwork done? Or why Hitsugaya spent so much time doing paperwork? Let's find out! Sorry, first fanfic- don't really know how to write a summary. Please read & review!
1. Does Kenpachi even do his paperwork?

_Mystery 1- Eleventh Division_

**Disclaimer-** I don't own Bleach and I'm glad- it looks like a lot of work.

Zaraki stood scowling in the courtyard of eleventh company as his squad members skirted around him looking uncharacteristically afraid. It wasn't because of the scowl of course since scowling was basically his only expression- well that and laughing maniacally while beating someone to a pulp so scowling was definitely the better of the two.

No, it was not his scowl which scared his subordinates but what he was holding- a large sheaf of paperwork. Standing perfectly still, single eye flicking back and forth, Zaraki watched the squad members the way a tiger would a gazelle, then suddenly dove and seized an unsuspecting eleventh company officer who actually looked like he had something of a brain (quite rare in the squad in question).

"C-c-captain Zaraki!" the Shinigami cried in surprise and fear, probably more the latter than the former, as Zaraki grabbed the collar of his clothes and lifted him at least a foot and a half off the ground.

"Fight me!" Zaraki demanded, single eye glaring at the unfortunate victim who stuttered and glanced around, looking for an escape. For all that he was a member of the eleventh company (and therefore couldn't turn down a good fight) he did have something of a brain and wasn't all too eager to die.

"You don't want to fight me?" Zaraki asked, voice dangerously quiet, the squad member stuttered as he tried to come up with a coherent response while attempting to free himself from Zaraki's grasp. Failing, he sighed and silently wished for a quick- not to mention awesome, since that was basically a necessity for the eleventh squad- death.

"You actually _don't want to fight_?" Zaraki asked incredulously, that concept was beyond his knowledge and understanding. The still-suspended man nodded reluctantly then prepared himself for the worst as Zaraki began to smile evilly. He suddenly found himself thrown the ground and a large sheaf of paperwork shoved at him, he barely had time for a confused, "Eh?" before Zaraki yanked him up and shoved (perhaps threw was the better word) him towards the offices, "I want the paperwork done and filed by five o'clock this evening or heads will roll!" he bellowed after him.

The shinigami dashed into the offices as fast as he could while Yachiru appeared at Zaraki's shoulder with a second sheaf of papers, "One down four to go!" the small lieutenant said cheerfully as she handed him the papers, "Your idea was really good, Ken-chan!" Zaraki nodded smugly in agreement, "I know but I wish some of the ones I pick on would actually fight instead of scurrying off to do the paperwork, it gets really boring sometimes." He headed off to find another victim to do the paperwork.

By five o'clock that day, all the paperwork had been finished and neatly sorted, ready to be submitted to the first division. Yamamoto never quite figured out how Zaraki always managed to be the first to turn in his paperwork when he spent the whole day beating people up.


	2. How does Ukitake do paperwork when sick?

_Mystery 2- Thirteenth Division_

Disclaimer- I don't own Bleach and I'm glad- it looks like a lot of work.

Ukitake sat at his desk in the Thirteenth Division offices and calmly sipped his tea, watching his two thirds seats do what they were second best at- argue. What they were best at, of course, was worshipping him, but that was usually the cause of the arguments in the first place.

Today was one of his better days so he had been able to come to the office to work, much to the relief of at least three quarters of his division, who'd spent most of the duration of his most recent sickness panicking and worrying that perhaps this bout of illness was more severe than the last (which it wasn't). The most worried, of course, had been his two third seats though their attempts to help the Fourth Division healer had usually resulted in arguing over who got to brew the herbal tea prescribed by the healer, who should prepared the soup he drank at mealtimes, and so on.

Currently, they were arguing about who was better at doing paperwork, who had better handwriting, and who was better at brewing tea (though Ukitake couldn't see how that had anything to do with the topic at hand).

"My handwriting is sooo much neater than your chicken scratches!"

"No it isn't! Your girly handwriting doesn't even represent Ukitake-sama well!"

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

"That didn't even make grammatical sense you ugly-"

"Look who's talking!"

"Shut UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP!"

"Monkey-face!"

"Midget!"

Ukitake cleared his throat softly and both sets of heads whipped around and looked at him guiltily, "Why don't the two of you just compete to see who could finish the largest number of neat and precise paperwork in the next two hours?" he asked, as patiently amiable as ever. He was probably one of the only captains in the thirteen companies who had the patience and ability to deal with the two most argumentative- not to mention energetic- third seats in all history.

After a long and loud exchange of insults and boasts they finally got down to work, scribbling away as Ukitake sipped his tea and caught up on reading divisional reports he had missed during his illness. He was almost sorry when they finished all the paperwork for the whole week, a fact they had promptly announced with the words:

"Ha! I beat you midget!"

"SHUT UP Monkey-face!"


	3. How do you get Mastumoto to do her work?

_Mystery 3- Tenth Division_

Disclaimer- I don't own Bleach and I'm glad- it looks like a lot of work.

Captain Histugaya scowled, he _knew_ a vein was popping out of his head and he _knew_ that anger was bad for his health but he just couldn't help it. As far as he was concerned he was the most unlucky captain in the whole Thirteen Companies because as far as he was concerned he was the only one who had to deal with a drunk or absent vice-captain on a near daily basis. Sure there were a couple of lieutenants who were far worse off that he- the eighth division for instance- but he was probably the only _captain_ who had this sort of trouble.

Turning his attention back to the drunken form of his lieutenant on the office couch he briefly considered turning her into a giant popsicle- couch and all-, quashing that impractical thought (it was a heck lot more tempting than he might have originally thought) he ran through a couple of other options, weighing the effectiveness of each. Slowly, he began to smile- an icy smile which definitely did not bode well for the vice-captain who still lay sleeping obliviously on the couch.

Matsumoto awoke with a massive headache and stumbled straight for her drawer of sake before the blurriness of sleep even cleared from her eyes, she knew the headache was caused by a hangover and the best way to treat that was- in her opinion and those of her more drink-loving companions- to drink more. Yanking open the drawer she reached in, only to come out empty-handed, a look of confusion spread over her face followed by instantaneous dread. Frantically searching all her most secret hiding places, her worst fears were confirmed- every single one of her carefully selected and concealed sakes had disappeared.

A cold chuckle behind her brought her back to her senses; whirling around, she was just in time to see her beloved sofa turn into a massive block of solid ice. The diminutive figure of her captain was visible behind the massive frozen block, his amusement and satisfaction apparent. With a nod of approval at his handiwork he whirled, causing his captain's cloak to billow dramatically, and took his seat at his desk. Picking up his pen, he returned to writing as if nothing had happened.

"Captain! What have you done?" Matsumoto whined when she finally recovered from the shock and despair of losing her precious sake and sofa.

"Get to work or I'll freeze you to your chair!" he snapped, pointing in the direction of her desk- which was nearly buried under a mountain of work- without bothering to even look up from the report he had been reviewing. Matsumoto winced and hurried over to her seat, knowing her captain it wasn't unlikely that he would follow up on his threat. Fishing a packet of paper off the top of her stack she glanced at it- it was a financial report on the revenue and expenditure of the company- with a groan, she began to read.

It hadn't even been a full half hour- or even twenty minutes- before she began to yawn, what she really needed was a nice cup of sake. She was halfway to her sake storage before she remembered that they had all disappeared.

"Looking for your sake?" Histugaya asked, a look of satisfaction flashing in his eyes before being replaced by detachment. Matsumoto huffed as she plopped down into her chair, "Do you even _need_ to ask that? On second thought, are you even _allowed_ to just take my sake?" she mused thoughtfully, "Maybe I should report you to the police…"

"There isn't a police system here, you know," Hitsugaya growled, "you've been staying in the world of the living too long. And that's beside the point- I actually do have the right to take you sake." Picking up a copy of _Laws and Regulations of the Seireitei_ he pointed to Law #597,380 on page 23,485- _All captains have the right to confiscate any items which may be or will potentially be a distraction from the rightful work of a subordinate or the work of their fellow squad members. Such items include, but are not limited to: tea sets, rice crackers, fish cakes, sake, candy_,_ potential opponents- such as the substitute soul reaper-, and other such things or people._

After reading the section ten times over, Matsumoto pouted and slumped in her seat, radiating gloom; seeing his chance Hitsugaya asked, "Do you really want your sake that bad?" She nodded vigorously. "Would you do anything to get them back?" She nodded again. "_Anything?"_ Slightly less sure, she nodded a third time. "Very well then, I'll give them back- but at a price: fifty pages of paperwork a bottle. And I'll unfreeze the couch if you do all your paperwork for the next six months."

"_Captain!"_

"Not my fault," he shrugged and turned back to his own work.


End file.
